


Falling in Reverse

by whoisthiswho



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Blood, Body Horror, F/F, Gen, I dont know if anyone even knows about this au anymore but im in love with it so uhhh, I just want to be safe here and let all yall know that this is gonna get dark, Injury, Psychological Horror, Reverse Falls AU, Reverse Pines, archive warnings may change
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-09-30
Updated: 2015-06-22
Packaged: 2018-02-19 07:59:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 16
Words: 19,685
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2380793
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whoisthiswho/pseuds/whoisthiswho
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Reverse Pines AU. Gideon and his stepsister Pacifica are sent to live with their Grauntie Carla at the Mystery Shack for their summer vacation. But something dark lies in wait for them within the sleepy town of Gravity Falls.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Mystery Shack, 6:45 P.M.

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so I'm gonna preface this by saying: I'm sorry. I suck at writing and updating things so I'm warning you not to like this because you will be sorely disappointed by my updating schedule. 
> 
> On that note;  
> -The twins are evil and there will be demons, bloodshed, and some other fucked up stuff. I will add the appropriate warnings.  
> -Pacifica is a lesbian. Gideon is asexual.   
> -I'm reimagining and combining episodes together.   
> -Bill Cipher is clueless for the same reasons you're clueless.   
> -If you comment finding a grammar, tense, POV, or spelling mistake I will love you forever.  
> -If you plain comment, I will love you forever. 
> 
> Lastly: Sorry.
> 
>  
> 
> EDIT 3/24/15  
> I'm updating the first few chapters from 1st person POVs to 3rd person POVs. I'm sorry for the inconvenience. Most, if not all important details will be kept in, so no worries. That being said, if you want to read the original chapters, I can post them.

“Ah, summer break. A time for relaxation, fun, and having a good time. Except when you’re me. My name is Gideon. Me and my stepsister, Pacifica Northwest were sent to spend the summer together at our Grauntie’s place, The Mystery Shack. You may be wondering why I’m explaining all this to you. It’s probably because I’m about to die in a cave filled with some kind of horrific monster trying to eat my sister and I. Don't worry, hun, I have a very reasonable explanation.”

It all began a couple of weeks ago. Gideon’s vibrant sister started chasing after some girl by the name of Rita. Rita had that whole “I’m a mysterious punk” vibe going on that drew Pacifica in immediately. That, and that fact that Gideon swore that Dreadlocks had some type of formal hypnotist training. Her voice was foreign and deep, all hard s’s and drawn out words. He couldn’t place the accent, no matter how hard he tried. Gideon asked once, but Rita only looked deeply perplexed before asking Pacifica what “hun” meant. Of course his stepsister was eager to seize this opportunity to make awful attempts at flirting.

“Oh, well, it’s nothing really…” she laughed softly. “Well, actually…” Pacifica tried to cover a giggle with her hand and gave the dark-skinned girl a coy smile. “Maybe you’d like to be my hun so you can find out for yourself?” From the sidelines, Gideon’s jaw swung open and he nearly shouted his shock. Rita was laughing and agreeing! At Pacifica’s flirting, no doubt! The world was obviously going to end soon. Gideon knew that no one, never, ever, fell for Pacifica’s flirting. She was corny and blatant as hel...heck!

Two days after, Gideon found himself watching Pacifica’s every move. Closely. Carefully. Grauntie Carla found him peeking out from behind trashcans as she dumped out the Mystery Shack’s latest failed attraction, The Giraffonkey. Part giraffe. Part monkey. Completely smothered in cheap wood glue. Somehow that piece of nightmare fuel had still managed to net Carla over 500 bucks. 

“Gideon, I know you’re into that save the earth stuff, but get out of my trashcans.” The boy jerked out from behind them, nearly knocking every single can over in his distress. Pacifica and Rita were sitting on a fallen log, Pacifica talking at a mile an hour and Rita silently listening. Gideon shushed Carla, then motioned her over to the trashcans.Then he paused, once she saw the Grauntie approach, rethinking something, and waved for her to move back into the Shack. Her eyes narrowed, she backed up a small step, only for Gideon to suddenly beckon her forward a final time. Reluctantly, Gideon started talking.

“Grauntie Carla, don’t you think there’s something weird about them two? They haven’t known each other three days and they’ practically bout to shack up. I know something's off with that Rita. It's aggravating, I just can't tell what.”

Carla laughed violently. Her whole body shook with her laughter, trademark triangle earrings clinking softly against each other. She pulled off her eyepatch and wiped a tear from her eye. “Gideon, you say aggervatin instead of aggravating! Oh my God, are you some kind of southern nanny?” She started laughing again, walking back to the door. “Oh God, that’s hilarious. Southern nanny,” she chuckled. “I’m hilarious.” Gideon let out a sigh. He knew this was to be expected. Carla ran a junky shack she had converted into a local attraction for those seeking a thrill and something to throw their money at. Well, there was nothing thrilling about a bunch of fake monsters and hybrids, but there was plenty to throw money at. As long as the cash kept flowing in, Carla was happy. 

Pacifica had ceased talking, now opting to stare Rita down with overly sappy puppy dog eyes. Gideon wanted to interrupt. But he also wanted to trust his sister. But he also really, wanted to interrupt. He wasn’t sure why, but he couldn’t stop wondering…what if Dreadlocks was bad news? What if she dragged Pacifica into some gang or…or something! Visions of Gideon’s bright eyed sister squatting in some alley surrounded by brutes and thugs filled his mind. Pacifica wouldn’t make it five minutes in a gang. Maybe three, tops.

Gideon froze. He had no clue why he was thinking of all this, when he had some heavy eyeballing to break up. 

“KIDS,” Carla started shouting from a window. “I NEED YOU TO GO POST THESE FLYERS UP IN THE DARKEST SECTION OF THE WOODS. AND YOU, DREADLOCKS, UNLESS YOU’RE WORKING THE NIGHT SHIFT I WANT YOU OFF MY PROPERTY.”

Carla, to Gideon’s unwitting rescue. Rita leaned over to whisper something which was probably obscene to Pacifica, who blushed and followed Rita to her car. Rita, who was 17 years old and dating his 15 year old sister. He willed her to leave faster. Pacifica’s face was red tinged, and she delivered a quick kiss on the cheek to her—her brother shivered at the implications—girlfriend. 

Something dropped on top of Gideon heavily, crushing him into the dirt. 

“Hurry up Gideon, get a move on!” Carla was bellowing from the window. Their Grauntie had quite a set of lungs. It was mildly terrifying how she sounded when she was serious. The boy pulled the wrapped stack of papers off his back, groaning at the weight. Something else struck him in the head, knocking his face into the dirt. A stapler. Before Carla started throwing more things, Gideon decided to rush over and grab Pacifica.

Gideon was content to listen as Pacifica cheerfully prattled on about how lovely and understanding her girlfriend was. Actually, he was powerless to, but Pacifica tended to do things her own way. She was oblivious to others sometimes, not noticing criticisms or rude comments. In a way, Gideon respected that about her. People always seemed to give her a hard time—that was part of the reason why her brother was so protective of her. He wasn’t as protective over her as when she was little; but she liked stupid 90s things and wore bright, cheesy clothes from the 80s and loved it and people thought that was just plain weird. It never got her confidence down now…but it used to. These days, Pacifica was the one protecting him.

“Gideon, I know you don’t like her because of that whole hun misunderstanding thing but, trust me, she’s awesome!” She paused, mulling over her next words. “Uh, it’s just, you know, this is Oregon. There aren’t many people from the Deep South here. ” Gideon stapled a flyer to a tree a bit more forcefully than necessary.  
“That doesn’t have anything to do with it. Don’t you think you’re rushing this? You hardly know the gal. You literally started going out the day you two met.” Pacifica handed him another flyer, waving off his concerns.

“It’ll be fine, Gidde, I’ve dated people before!” Gideon took a second to read over a flyer while walking to the next tree. It read: “Come down to the Mystery Shack???? Secrets and oddities abound? Only you can find out.” Behind him, Pacifica leaned over to pull her hair back into a high ponytail. 

“Yea, but remember your last girlfriend,” he replied with a slight cringe. Ashley had turned out to be a crazy stalker who wouldn’t stop following Pacifica home every night after they broke up. 

“Oops, dropped my scrunchie. One sec, Gidde.” She crouched down to inspect the ground, dropping the flyers next to her. “Ah, there it is,” she said, grabbing at it. Something thin and dark was pulled up too, and Gideon felt the sudden sensation of nothing underneath his feet as he was yanked upwards into the trees. 

Gideon’s startled cry caused Pacifica to whirl around, looking frantically for him. “Gideon? What the fuck was that?” Her brother was crushed up in a rope net which had flung him onto a hunter’s platform, knocking the wind from him. “Gideon?”

Gideon took a second to catch his breath and wait for his head to stop spinning. His ankle hurt like hell, but otherwise he felt fine. Aside from the buzzing in his head. He ignored that for now. “I’m fine!”, he called. The net sagged onto the wooden platform, and Gideon could easily free himself from it. He waited for some kind of trap to be triggered, like a hidden bear trap or a rigged shotgun, or something. Nothing happened. Holding his breath, he started crawling across the platform, trying not to look over the edge. Heights were not his strong suit. Ever since that Ferris Wheel accident in the 4th grade heights made him feel dizzy and weak. But the branches of the tree were overgrown, covering much of the platform. Near the center, the foliage only grew denser. Gideon was close to the trunk of the pine tree when he heard something click, and a rusty hinge swing ominously.


	2. Mystery Shack's Forest Outskirts, 7:18 P.M.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wherein Pacifica is a gymnastic badass and Gideon is a cute nerd easily distracted by shiny books. And it seems Pacifica is Up To Something.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whaaaaat? I updated within a day. This is a new record for me. Please don't get your expectations up too high. 
> 
> Once again, if you see any errors please comment so I can fix them. I really need a proofreader for these things.
> 
> EDIT 3/4: POV has been changed from 1st person to 3rd. Please tell me if there are any mistakes I missed. Thanks for reading!

Pacifica could only just barely spot the bright white patch of her step-brother’s hair through the pine fronds. “Gideon?” He was quickly disappearing from view. Something ominous screeched open from above, and the clang of metal on metal sounded. Her pulse started pumping hard, fear gripping it tightly, and she called again for her brother. He wasn’t answering…was he hurt? She started pacing quickly around the tree, trying to find a way up. She saw climbing was her only option, so she hauled herself up onto a low hanging branch. The next one was a few feet to the left and a couple feet above her head. Gymnastics had paid off, because soon she was making easy progress. Some kind of wooden platform was up above. There was only a jump or two between herself and the hunter’s nest. Pacifica leapt to grab the next branch and cold, smooth metal met her grip. The branch moved about an inch and then froze like a stuck lever. Her heart caught in her throat. Before Pacifica had time to sigh in relief, the fake branch sank downwards and clicked into place. The blonde’s fingers started slipping down the metal towards the ground. In retrospect, she realized that while fingerless gloves look rad, they don’t do shit for grip.

“GIDEON!” She couldn’t see him on the platform anywhere. She had two options: fall, or jump and fall. She supposed a third one might be possible: wait ten more seconds for her brother to show up and then fall. None of them sounded appealing to her. She kicked out, only getting enough momentum for two swings before letting go and reaching for the edge of the platform. Pacifica made it by a finger, quickly scrabbling for purchase on the weathered wood. While she pulled herself up, Gideon reappeared. 

“Pacifica? How’d you get on up here?” All the blonde could manage were weak climbing motions and heavy panting. Pacifica placed a hand to her chest. The beat of her heart was thumping almost too loudly. At least Gideon was okay. She pulled off her gloves and threw them aside distastefully. She checked Gideon for any visible injuries, but he looked fine. Her white-haired brother was carrying something carefully inside his jacket, though. He looked like he was hiding it, but quickly zipped his jacket before she could get a close look. “Y’all okay? You look spooked. Let’s get out of here,” he said, motioning towards the tree trunk.

“Gimme a minute,” Pacifica was wheezing. “My heart hasn’t recovered enough to climb down.” The adrenaline kick had already started wearing off. 

“Oh no, don’t worry about gettin’ down. Just follow me,” he said, starting to crawl towards the trunk. Pacifica followed skeptically. The platform was carpeted in age-old layers of pine needles and leaf sediment. Gideon led his sister to a tiny door dug out of the tree. “This’s all metal here. The lower half’s wood.” There were narrow steps on the interior of the tree. “It’s a tight fit,” he mentioned, gesturing to his chubby midsection and legs, “but we can manage it.” 

What…was this? She thought hunters used platforms like these but they always had ladders up to them. Perhaps the ladders were too obvious and the hunter wanted a secret personal roost? Pacifica puzzled over this while she followed Gideon down the stairs. He was right—it was tight. She almost banged my head on every overhead step. When they arrived at the last steps Gideon reached out, searching the walls with his fingertips. There was a click and a creak as another secret door swung open. Once they were out, Gideon shut the painted door and it seamlessly melted into the tree again. It was painted so realistically that Pacifica had a hard time believing it was there even after exiting from it. 

She kicked the stack of flyers on the ground, which accomplished nothing but made her feel better nonetheless. She was frustrated and confused, but above all, curious. “What was all that?” 

Gideon shrugged, and then looked around suspiciously. “I’m not sure. I did find something hidden up there though,” he murmured. He glanced around again. “You’re not gonna tell anyone right? Especially not that girlfriend of yours?” Pacifica laughed weakly, trying to hide her mild offense. She had no clue what he had against Rita, but he clearly didn’t trust her, while further frustrated her. 

“Pfft. Gideon. Pffffffft. I would never!” The truth was that she might. Only if what he had found was interesting enough. Probably not, though. The boy nodded, seeming to trust her and unzipped his jacket halfway, obscuring the object in the darkness of his jacket. He pulled it out a little bit. 

“It’s some kind of journal. It’s filled with magic and monsters and crazy stuff that apparently exists in Gravity Falls!” It was a weathered leather-bound tome with a golden footprint on the front cover. The letter “C” was inscribed within the footprint. He shoved it back inside his jacket. “The author just suddenly drops off in the middle of an entry, like they were interrupted or something.” 

“Whoa, spookyyy,” she said, drawing out the words for special effect. It was interesting, sure, but hardly a deep, dark secret—Rita didn’t need to know. They started walking back to the Shack. The sun was setting fast and soon it would be too dark to see a hand in front of their faces.

“More than spooky,” Gideon agreed, ignoring or failing to pick up on Pacifica’s sarcasm. He half-waddled next to her, shoving his fingers under his armpits and shivering. He was always cold, even though the summer evenings had been warming up. “I told Aunt Carla there was some weird crap going on in this town, but she always told me I just being paranoid. Guess who’s the paranoid one now, Carla!”

Pacifica giggled. “Gidde, you’re still the paranoid one.” He blanched, looking embarrassed and laughing nervously, removing his cap to scratch at his head.

“Yeah, I suppose so!” The shack was almost within sight. “But seriously, I only got to look for a scant five minutes but there’s some amazing stuff in there. It’s the real deal, Pacifica.”  
His sister slowed down to pick her way through a thorny briar. She clothes always got caught on the little thorns and branches and she did not feel like ruining a new pair of saber yellow tights. It had taken a lot of time to find the exact shade she’d wanted. 

Pacifica thought about Gideon’s words for a moment. If this book was the real deal…well then, that explained a lot of summer vacations. She felt a certain flashback coming on that involved falling into the lake when she was 8 and nearly drowning. Grauntie Carla always said it was beavers acting on instinct, but Pacifica knew she’d never forget that eerie wail and the slip of pebbled scales under her fingertips as she was pushed back to the sandbar. 

Gideon paused ahead, waiting for her. He squinted at the Shack. “Hold up now. Pacifica, who’s that?” 

Pacifica’s thoughts ranged from: “Oh shit, Rita is standing right there” to “I thought I told her to wait until 8?” and then “Gideon is gonna freak,” before finally spiraling into, “I need an excuse, fast.” Um, um, um, um. There really wasn’t any reason she needed to go into town by car. Except… 

“Oh, Gidde, did I forget? Carla wanted me to spy on some new psychic duo that’re in Gravity Falls for a summer tour. I was gonna do it on Saturday, but it turns out they’re doing some preview event tonight at some private venue. I needed someone to drive me.” Gideon was going red in the face from his sudden fluster. He looked like he believed Pacifica. 

“How come Carla didn’t ask me to go?”

She poked him in the side and stuck out her tongue. “You would want to pay to get in. Carla wants us to sneak in so those bozos don’t make profit off of us.” They were almost to the front steps. Any closer and Rita might come over and spill the beans. “Don’t worry, I won’t do too much spying without you,” she said, shrugging exaggeratedly. “We can go to the Saturday show. You should just read that journal for tonight. See if you can find any lake mermaids!” Gideon glared at the dark figure with green dreadlocks and made an unhappy face. 

“Alright. Stay safe, sis,” he muttered grumpily, climbing up the stairs of the porch. 

“Don’t worry about me,” Pacifica replied innocently, as she bounced over to Rita. She had a smile playing on her lips and a mischievous expression. 

“Ready?”, she asked flipping her dreads back behind her shoulders. Pacifica got in her junky old car and fixed the seat up.

“Definitely,” she answered, without missing a beat.


	3. Mystery Shack, 10:23 A.M.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which there are some crazy beavers outside, a trip to the diner, and Soos is being obliviously helpful as always.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this update took me a while. Had a very busy Spirit Week at my school (I went as Dipper Pines for Disney Day and found a Mable Pines in underclassmen who was wayyy more than a milimeter taller than me). 
> 
> Oh, and sorry for the POV switching. It's 3rd person now, Gideon-centric. I'm still trying to get a feel for these characters. Thanks for reading even if it's super messy.
> 
> Please comment if you notice any mistakes because these are un-betaed.

Reading the journal only made Gideon want Pacifica and Rita to break up more. Because the first page he flipped open to was that of the Gorgon—instantly it all made sense. A stone cold gaze, green snakelike dreadlocks, dark skin tone, hypnotizing voice. The girl even hissed all her words! 

“Whatever form a Gorgan takes, they will always maintain one dreadful attribute, most often fangs, tusks, or a forked tongue,” he read aloud, starting to pace in the attic. He groaned, setting the journal down heavily on the window seat and staring out at the rising sun. “Why is it all mouth stuff?”

Someone cleared their throat and knocked on the open doorframe. “Uh… I’m not gonna ask exactly what that means, but you alright dude?” Wendy’s stocky frame was leaned against the wall. She was in her trademark flannels and stained baseball cap, hair pulled into a ponytail. Gideon hopped onto the window seat and hid the journal behind his back. 

“Oh, no need to worry about little old me. I’m just…concerned about Pacifica.”

Wendy smiled knowingly and walked into the room. She started rifling through the closet but called back to Gideon, “What about her?” Wendy was struggling to pull something from the closet. He was about to get up and help her, but she finally yanked out an archaic looking vacuum cleaner. She tumbled to the floor as the thing fell on top of her, but scrambled to her feet quickly. 

Gideon wasn’t sure what to tell her. Would “I think Pacifica’s girlfriend is Medusa?” cut it? It seemed like such a weird thing to say. Wait, why was Wendy looking at him like that? 

She had a slightly perplexed look on her face, like she was considering something. “Medusa? Gideon, no one really likes that chick but that’s a bit far. Unless you’ve seen her dreads turn into snakes in which case, I totally believe you because that actually would make a lot of sense.” 

“What? You’re taking this seriously?”

Wendy looked more confused now. “Was I not supposed to?” She dusted herself off and started emptying the vacuum cleaner into a trash bucket. Gideon was a bit stunned, to say the least. “Dude, I’ve spent my whole life in this town. That’s more than enough time to realize how weird this place is.”

He guessed it was true enough. He’d thought something about Gravity Falls was off after only two weeks. “So do you think it could be true?” He needed to brainstorm some ideas fast if he didn’t want his sister to become snake food. 

“Dude, definitely—if you’ve got the proof. If you don’t have anything concrete it’s a no-go.” Wendy was leaning on the vacuum, swinging the power cord. “You know, no witches in Salem, all that crap.”

Gideon shrugged, pulling his arms around his knees. “You’re usually right about these kinds of things. Thanks, Wendy.”

The ginger pointed at him, clicking her tongue and winking. “Don’t mention it kid.” 

“WENDY, GET YOUR AXE. THERE’S SOME CRAZY BEAVER OUTSIDE HARASSING CUSTOMERS,” Grauntie Carla shouted up the stairwell. “OH—OH GOD IT’S NOW BITING CUSTOMERS.” She winced, pulling the vacuum cleaner to the door and rolling her eyes. “WENDY, I CAN HEAR THE DOLLAR BILLS FLYING OUT THE WINDOW, HURRY IT UP.”

“Talk to ya later, dude.” 

After she left, Gideon started hatching a plan. It wasn’t going to be just any old plan, no, it was going to be a complicated and infallible plan. A veritable dragon of a plan. No chickens would hatch from it, no sirre. It was gonna be a great plan, if only he could think of what it was. He started wondering if there was anything about dragons in the journal. Then he started searching intensely through the journal for any mention of dragons. In two hours, he realized he was no closer to a plan for finding out the truth about Rita nor any closer to discovering if dragons inhabited Gravity Falls. 

He found Pacifica working the register with Soos, who was slacking off in that charming way of his. He wassailing distractedly as he listened to his girlfriend over the phone. Pacifica looked exhausted. She hadn’t even changed out of her puffy windbreaker and leggings yet, and Gideon was pretty certain she was just punching random numbers into the register. “Was the show that good?” he asked.

There was a long moment where his sister slowly registered what he said. Then she laughed hollowly. “It was so packed we couldn’t find a way in,” she replied. Pacifica tightened her ponytail and drum her fingers on the sales counter. “You’re gonna need to think of a way in, brainiac. Don’t forget that you’re the smart one and I’m the cool one,” the girl said, making a peace sign with her fingers and winking. 

He could practically feel the responsibility being unloaded onto him. “Did you at least scope the place out?”, he asked with a deep sigh. He could already guess the answer.

“Uh, no,” Pacifica said, ringing up some woman’s bundle of Mystery Shack T-shirts. It looked like she had one in every size. “But, we watched The Condescending three times. So, um, if you ever have a question about that movie, I got you.” 

“Oh, you watched the Condescending last night too?” Soos chimed in, holding his hand over his phone. “Ash hated it—she’s kinda wimpy when it comes to horror—but dude, that scene with the lawnmower was the coolest and grossest scene ever. That movie was sick.”  
The lanky boy clearly wanted to talk more but an angry voice buzzing from his phone distracted him again. 

Pacifica shoved the woman’s order in some bags and waved her off, entirely forgetting to make change for the 50 bucks. “It’s not that important Gidde. So don’t you dare get stressed.” It’s a lil bit too late for that, Gideon thought. He was more stressed about Rita than that tag-team magic show. He needed some sort of innocent excuse to confirm his suspicions. 

“Gidde? C’mon, you still look worried. Your face is scrunched up like a cute little baby piglet’s. Here, why don’t you come out with Rita and me to get lunch at the diner? We can snoop around the Tent of Telepathy then.” 

Gideon hummed to himself and pretended to think hard about the suggestion. After a moment or two he agreed, thanking his lucky stars for having such a babyish face. Soos insisted that if they were breaking in to some place, he had to be there, mainly to show off his horrid fence-scaling skills. 

 

An hour later they were all crammed into a booth at the diner with Hyper Joe taking orders. His eye twitched uncontrollably the entire time, and Pacifica and Gideon made a game out of trying to count how many times it twitched in a minute. The average seemed to be 35 twitches per minute. Soos called it TPM, because it seemed cooler that way. Though she laughed, Rita never opened her mouth wide enough to show fangs. 

Even when she ate, the girl barely opened her mouth, just nibbling on her fish and chips. She ended up giving most of her fries to Pacifica. They left the diner and Gideon still wasn’t any closer to finding any answers. The Tent was about a 5 minute walk away from the diner, and they didn’t want the car to end up on any surveillance camera if they ended up breaking in, so they hit the pavement. Sidewalks in Gravity Falls were cracked and split through years of mistreatment, often veering up and down awkwardly. It made walking a workout. 

“What’s got you down, buddy?” Soos was grinning at him, inexplicably excited by the prospect of illegal activities. He seemed to have no trouble strolling alongside Gideon. Two of his footsteps equaled five of Gideon’s. Rita and Pacifica were in front of them, casually strolling. At 15, Gideon still was as short as he had been at 8 while his step sister was taller than her dad. It always made him feel like the little brother, even when he was trying to protect her.

Soos nudged him lightly, and even that was enough to almost send him flying off the sidewalk. “C’mon, spit it out,” he insisted. Gideon righted himself, made a noncommittal noise to stall for time, and then spoke.  
“You see, Rita seems like a real nice gal. I just want to make sure she’s not some kind of…” How should he word this? He obviously wasn’t gonna tell Soos he thinks she's a fanged snake lady from Greek mythology. “…punk with tongue piercings and all that.” Soos started laughing, hitting Gideon on the shoulder again causing him to teeter on the edge of the sidewalk and the road.

“I can check it out for you, no worries,” Soos said with a jolly expression. “Hey, Rita! Wait up a sec!” The boy was already striding towards the two. Gideon froze. What? Wait, he didn’t mean for that to happen. Before he could do anything, Soos had already caught up and shamelessly, gently squeezed Rita’s mouth open using the Grandma Face Grab method. Rita had an apathetic expression on, even when Soos casually angled her whole face at Gideon. “See? No piercings.” No fangs either. Or forked tongue. How? He was so sure. Maybe the journal was wrong. Maybe there were other things like claws—Rita’s nails were normal—or a tail—it’d be visible under her skirt—or wings? She was wearing a tank top and there was nothing there. 

He nearly smacked a hand to his forehead, he felt so stupid. At this point he was just grasping at smoke trying to find something tangle to condemn Rita. Pacifica was staring at him judgmentally, knowing what he was trying to do and looking unimpressed. Ugh. He felt idiotic for convincing himself this chick was a monster. Letting himself lag behind, the other continued down the street towards the shimmering blue tent in the distance.


	4. Gravity Falls, 11:50 A.M.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Our gang scales a fence and is now in the Danger Zone. A brief moment of hot Grunckle action (oh god did I really just type that).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait. I have had waaay too many papers to write. 
> 
> Also I am so so sorry for the massive inconsistencies and errors in my writing. Please comment if you spot a problem!
> 
> Thanks!

The tent was set up in an empty lot—Gravity Falls had no shortage of those. Abandoned plazas and stores composed the majority of the outer ring of the town, and most residents were either packed tightly around the Town Hall and the lake or separated entirely from neighbors in the thick of the woods. There was little explanation why. It was just how Gravity Falls was. 

The lot was fenced off on three sides and the front gate was open. Even though there reportedly wasn’t a show going on, the parking lot was stuffed. A news truck was reporting from the scene, watching people line up outside. It was impossible to see any entrances or exits through the turbulent crowd. Pacifica wasn’t even sure this many people actually lived in Gravity Falls. Soos, ever excited by the prospect of fence hopping, made the decision to lead the small group around the left corner of the fence, out of the news camera’s line of sight. The tent was massive, its blue velveteen mass draping over most of the lot. It looked expensive and exuded luxury. It was trimmed with gold and overseen by a stained glass star with an eye in the center, which caught the light and reflected its colors everywhere. 

The blond was watching Rita closely, gauging her reaction so she could try and impress her. But she kept averting her eyes from the tent and looked uncharacteristically gloomy, fidgeting constantly with her hair.  
“Are you guys certain we need to trespass here?”, Rita asked quietly. Pacifica felt guilty now, but she had to stick with it for Gideon’s sake. Her heart told her to side with Rita—score some points with the girlfriend—but she had already made a promise to her brother. Soos was already gripping the fence and staring intently through the chain links, and Gideon seemed slightly hesitant about the breaking in aspect of all this, but slowly nodded. 

“M’sorry but Carla told me they charged 10 dollars for admission, and made sure to take my extra money before we left.” He pulled out a handful of change to emphasize his point.

“Mine as well,” Pacifica said. Grauntie Carla had emptied out their pockets and left them each with under ten dollars. Mainly because, in her words, she “didn’t want the two goody-goodies violating their agreement”. She really was adamant about not giving any money to her new competition. Rita grumbled quietly, moving to lean against the fence. She watched Soos start testing his weight on the fence. 

“Wow. This is heavy duty!”, he exclaimed, shaking the fence roughly. He reached up and started scaling it, pulling himself over the top and down onto the other side. He turned to Gideon who was looking at the imposing height of the fence. “Gideon, you’re next!” 

“What? Me?” Gideon shook his head violently and backed away. “Let’s just go on and find a lil’ back gate and open that. It’s much more logical. Right Pacifi…” Metal clanged as Rita took a running leap at the fence, flung herself over the top, and twisted, clinging to the fence and leaning over to extend a hand to Pacifica with a smile. Gideon, wide-eyed and still staring at the top of the fence, stumbled back slightly. 

His sister, slapped him on the shoulder sympathetically. “C’mon…it’s not that hard. Here, let’s do it together,” she suggested, pulling him over by his jacket sleeve. She gave what she hoped was a reassuring pat on his head and started climbing. Reluctantly, Gideon followed, struggling beside her. Pacifica reached the top before him and got a boost up from her girlfriend, who courteously offered a hand to Gideon as well. Rita essentially pulled him up singlehandedly to the top of the fence, and hopped down. The other two climbed down carefully. Soos took a snapchat of a sweaty Gideon, who unsuccessfully tried to swipe his phone from him. 

“Alright! Let’s find a way in!” Pacifica pulled the hood of her windbreaker up—not that it would help hide her identity…there was only one person in Gravity Falls who wore clothes as neon as hers—and crept to the side of the tent. Gideon followed behind her curiously as she crouched down and lifted up the fabric. It revealed the pine siding of a house underneath it.

“W….what? I thought this was just a tent.” Gideon knocked on the wood, and in a disbelieving voice confirmed, “It’s solid.”

“Dude, cool! This means we get to break into even more stuff!” Soos turned on his phone’s flash and ducked under the tent, shining a light up side of the building. “There aren’t any windows, but I think there may be a door further down.” The other three followed the bump under the draping that was Soos. 

While he fumbled around, Rita stepped closer to Pacifica and Gideon and murmured,” I really don’t like the idea of breaking in here.” Pacifica started telling her she didn’t have to come inside if she didn’t want to, while Gideon further cursed his stupid imagination. How could he have thought Rita was a felonious punk when she had more restraint than all of them? Suddenly, something loud rumbled roughly. 

“Uh…for the record, guys, that wasn’t me,” Soos called, head peeking out from under the tent. He held it up, revealing an opened side door. “But I did get this open with my,” he struck a pose for emphasis, “Superior lock picking skills.” A bashed padlock and a rock sitting by the door begged to differ, but no one mentioned anything. The loud rumbling continued, eventually evening out from a staticky start to a recognizable voice.

“The Telepathy Twins will now open up to the public,” it grumbled. “Please line up in an orderly fashion. Only the first 35 people will be permitted full entrance for today.” It was an old man, obviously gruffly reading off written lines in as pleasant a voice as he could manage. He repeated it again. Soos waved them in. Rita, after some internal debate, followed Pacifica. Soos shut the door behind them, plunging them into darkness until he turned on his flash again. 

“Whoa,” Rita exhaled, spinning around the hall. There was no light from either end of the hallway, but framed mirrors lined the walls, bouncing the light of the flash off them down the corridor. The whole passage was plain, unpainted wood with a dull sheen to it. Pacifica turned on her own flash, and started peeking around a corner. Then she doubled back and checked the other end. 

“Hey, so there are four hallways. Two straight, two branching off,” she said, sounding like she was leading up to something. 

Soos gasped. “Are you about to suggest what I’m about to suggest?” He pointed at Pacifica. “If so, I totally agree with what you’re about to suggest.” Pacifica nodded smugly, giving him a thumbs up. 

“Go on, Soos, you can have the honors.” Rita and Gideon shared a confused glance.

He cleared his throat for an excessively long time and then let out a preparatory breath. “Let’s split up, gang!”

Soos and Pacifica highfived while Gideon looked unimpressed. “You both realize that’s a horrible plan, right?” They didn’t answer for a moment. “Right?”

“Gidde, it’s the principle that counts,” Pacifica answered straightfaced. “Plus, it'll take less time to get through the whole place," she reasoned. "This is a great strategy!”


	5. Tent of Telepathy, 12:07 P.M.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Splitting up actually turns out to be an absolutely horrible plan, and our two heroes get a chance encounter with the mysterious Telepathy Twins. Soos has a chance encounter with a snack bowl, just in case you're wondering.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please tell me if you find any mistakes. This chapter probably has the most so I'd really appreciate the help.

About seven and a half minutes later, Pacifica was willing to retract her earlier statement. Splitting up had gotten her nowhere—the northern hall seemed to go on forever and when she finally would reach a bend, it would be more of the same. Somehow, Gideon had walked face-first into her around the five minute mark, despite taking the extreme southernmost hall. He didn’t say anything out loud about it, but the I-told-you-so-hun, clearly shown on his face.  
The halls were eerily quiet; none of the noises from the outside crowd were even vaguely present. Just the creaking of their feet against the floorboards. Until they heard the crackling of static from above them. Gideon grabbed Pacifica’s windbreaker to stop her from moving—and to ground himself.

“You kids shouldn’t be in here.” The grumpy voice carried through some kind of speaker system. Wherever the audio was coming from was out of sight. “Seriously, it’s gonna get you in trouble,” he continued. Pacifica was looking around wildly, her reflection bouncing off the mirrors. The mirrors were freaking Gideon out too much. He shut his eyes, only cracking one open to watch his sister.

“Blondie, there’s an exit at the end of the next left turn—get yourself and the albino outta here, pronto!” The old man suddenly sounded worried, slightly alarmed even. Pacifica was searching for the left turn amongst the mirrors, which was a gap in the endless reflections of her and her brother. She started pulling them towards it, but blue light was suddenly bouncing off the mirrors, blinding her. Something began hitting the wood floors behind them; rhythmically, slowly, deliberately. Gideon stared towards the floorboards, looking along the wooden siding for the turn, finding it, and beginning to drag his sister along behind him. His eyes were glued to the gap, but as he turned into it, he hit something solid. The door. His hand trailed over the door to find the knob quickly, and turned it, began pulling it open. The knob twisted around and broke his grip, the door slamming shut. 

Pacifica hissed in pain and the voice over the speakers let out a harsh breath. “I’m sorry kids. Just do what they say and you’ll be okay. Alright? Do what they say.” The static cut out, leaving them in silence. Even the thumping against the wood had stopped. Only their labored breathing remained. Gideon pressed himself against the door, heart beating out of his chest and slowly squinted back at his sister. What was coming for them? Pacifica was shielding her eyes against the light and trying to see down the hall. 

A shrill sound scraped out from somewhere, and the blonde’s eyes widened as she ducked towards Gideon with a garbled shout. The mirrors at the ends of the hall burst, glass dropping onto the ground and shattering; then the next set did, and the next set, multiple breaking at a time on each side of the two. They winced at each break, shielding their eyes from the flying debris. Minutes passed before the siblings moved—the exploding mirrors had finally stopped and glittering shards blanketed the ground, blue light still glinting off it. Pacifica was the first to step away from the wall, glass crunching uglily beneath her shoes. She glanced up, saw one mirror remained unshattered directly in front of her brother and herself and yelped. 

A brown-haired girl, face twisted in disdain stood behind Pacifica. She was dressed in a charcoal leotard and an aqua trimmed waistcoat with glossy black tights. The eerie blue light reflected off, or maybe emanated from, the turquoise gem on her headband. She had appeared so suddenly that Pacifica was almost convinced the reflection she saw in the mirror was an apparition and that in turning around, the girl would vanish. Her hopes were dashed when the girl in blue grabbed her shoulder and swung her around roughly, grabbing her and her stepbrother and pushing them away from the door. 

“Hello,” she leered, a sickly smile—more of a snarl—on the brunette’s face as she placed herself between them and their one exit. Gideon instinctively winced away from her predatory glance; the intent to pounce practically dripped off the girl. Seeing this, she stared just over his shoulder and grinned toothily. “Dipper, don’t be rude; say hello to our guests.” She stepped around Pacifica loudly, her heels crushing more glass and clacking against the wood, leaning in towards the nervous Gideon. On his other side, someone else tilted into his vision. Jerking back, he headbutted a boy much taller than him in the chest. Flecks of light sparked up in his vision and momentarily, the two blue figures leaning over him blurred into one, then into four. When his sight was clear, Dipper’s indifferent gaze joined his twin’s in front of him. 

“Hey! Back off!” Pacifica shouted, stamping over through the mirror bits and yanking Gideon away from the two, distancing herself from them. She was scared, holding her step-brother, who she knew was probably even more scared, behind her. If they made one more move towards him…

The brother ran his fingers through his hair, slicking it back enough to expose the edges of a rough birthmark on the boy’s forehead. “We weren’t doing anything,” he replied cooly. His voice was a monotone and he sounded and looked utterly bored with the situation. He was dressed in an oxford matching his sister’s coat and a ribbon tie with the same odd gemstone shimmering on it. He had a habit of clutching it to his chest and twisting it around.

The brunette girl began appraising Pacifica slowly, a judging smirk rising on her face. “Why should we back off? You’re the ones trespassing, after all.” Her eyes were glinting with malice, blue light reflecting dangerously. Pacifica had no response, only biting the inside of her lip in agitation and shifting her stance. “Ah, no answer? …Brother, what should we do with them?” She leaned over and to rest her arm against his shoulder, dropping her head and staring at him innocently. 

“I don’t know Mabel,” he shrugged lightly, looking down at her. She pouted at her twin, looking disappointed. With her other hand she reached over and shooed his fingers away from the gemstone on his tie.

“Awww,” she whined. “But you always come up with the better ideas. Mine never interest you…” Pacifica checked behind her momentarily. Gideon’s hand felt ice-cold and it was starting to freak her out. He looked even worse—eyes wide with terror in the dim blue light, trying to find another exit. They could run back down the hall, but risked sliding over the fragmented glass coating the floors. Running past the twins would result in the same thing. The door behind those two had slammed shut of its own accord. Their options were limited. “Oh, I know…we could use them in the show!” Mabel exclaimed, a vicious grin coming over her face. She straightened out, taking steps towards the pair of frightened teens. The gem on her headband seemed to catch fire, glowing a fierce blue that made the mirror shards shine oddly. 

Gideon noticed something unnatural about the glow of the glass. They no longer seemed to be glinting with aqua light so much as physically shrouded in the color. Then he noticed that as Mabel took a step, glass would rush away from her heels in waves. And her headband didn’t reflect a light—it was the source of the light. She was mere feet away from his defiant stepsister when he could see the glass rising up behind Mabel. But obviously, Pacifica didn’t; her chin was raised and she looked like she was about to charge the brunette. 

Dipper looked on blithely, only minutely interested in what was about to occur. Noticing the faintest possible trace of amusement on his face finally set Gideon off. He wordlessly grabbed a fistful of Pacifica’s windbreaker, and some of her hair by accident, and started running. The blonde girl seemed surprised for a few moments, feet slipping in the rubble as she was pulled from behind, but soon twisted and followed his lead. They were definitely struggling to stay upright, sometimes glancing off the wall but managed to dash around the corner into a darkened corridor. Behind them blue light bounced off the walls and the muffled voice of Mabel approached. Mirrors were intact in this corridor but Gideon wasn’t sure how long they’d remain that way with the Twins approaching. While Gideon searched for a new exit, Pacifica was inspecting her knees, one of which had been cut up by the glass they kicked around. 

Looking up, she addressed her brother in a tight voice. “That girl is insane. We need to get out of here before they catch us.”

“Agreed.”

“Good, now you get going,” she said, pointing down the corridor. “I’ll distract them, don’t worry.”

“Wait—what?” He was being pushed down the hall easily by the blonde, who gave him a final last shove and expertly sprinted back towards the end of the corridor, windbreaker flapping behind her. “Pacifica! Pacifica!” He didn’t budge from where she had left him, watching her run towards the growing blue light, frozen by fear and apprehension.


	6. Tent of Telepathy, 12:20 P.M.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pacifica takes multiple steps too many and Gideon makes one leaping realization too late.
> 
> Oh, and Stan's here too.

Gideon felt all the blood drain out of his face. A number of gruesome potential outcomes for his sister flashed through his mind. Whoever these twins were, they were horrifying. He was torn between listening to Pacifica or ignoring his stepsister and running after her. He twisted his jacket in his hands indecisively, and hundreds of his reflections did the same in the mirrors. The boy looked at his reflections, and they looked back—small, terrified, and helpless. Even if he went to help Pacifica what good would he be? He would get in her way, she’d have to sacrifice herself to save him, and he’d get caught in spite of that. Gideon looked at the ground, then back up again to meet his own watery eyes in the mirror, finally making his decision. He was going to run away. 

He started to turn, gave a final glance back at the blonde, starting to say, “Be careful” and instead watched her slam face first into a wooden door that suddenly opened. For a second she was still, tensed up from the initial impact, but then he watched her almost comically fall back onto the floor, holding her face. Wordlessly, she glared around while Gideon wanted to cry from fear and laugh at the same time. An old man peeked his head out of the secret panel. Seeing Gideon, he beckoned to him while raising a finger to his mouth before grabbing the back of the stunned girl’s windbreaker and dragging her into the passageway. Confused, he made a mad dash for the wooden panel and followed the two inside. The man checked the outside again, and closed the panel behind them. 

“I think we’re good for now. Those damn troublesome twins,” he grumbled, scratching his chin. The man paced over to a dimly lit desk and tested his voice, clearing his throat. He had the same rough voice as the announcer and the guy warning them about Dipper and Mabel and looked about the same age as Grauntie Carla. “Erhm. The show is about to begin…take your seats.” He spoke into a small lapel mic. Gideon rested against the secret door heavily, but jerked away when he heard footsteps outside the panel. They were hurried and heavy, heels clicking against the hardwood floors and they stopped a few paces after they had passed the panel. They walked back, almost like an afterthought to the door and paused. It was undoubtedly Mabel. She knew they were there, or at least she had a strong suspicion they were. She was going to open the panel and find them in there and…he didn’t know what would happen after that. 

But Dipper called to her and she whirled around on the floor to shout snappily back at him, stamping off speedily. A few seconds later, Gideon relaxed and let out a sigh, falling back against the wall again. The old man was watching the door carefully, and opened his mouth to say something to him, but the only sound Gideon heard was the exploding of the mirrors in the hall. They all jerked and instinctively backed away from the door. Pacifica still seemed too dazed to know what had just happened, and remained on the floor until the man offered her a hand. She still seemed a bit dizzy, leaning against the nearest wall for support.

“Sorry,” he groused, pulling her to her feet. “They’re a couple of first rate basket cases, and I’m their handler for the entire goddamn summer.” 

“Um,” Gideon responded. 

The guy just continued anyways. “Why did I have to get stuck with such psychopaths…they can’t be my great-niece and great-nephew. They aren’t,” he finished in a mumble. This was uncomfortable. 

“Wait; they’re your niece and nephew? They’re crazy!” Pacifica cried, suddenly capable of words and thought again. She brushed some dirt from the floor off her windbreaker, then took a moment to rub her forehead where it had collided with the door. 

“I just said they aren’t! Not the ones I remember anyways.” He grabbed something off the desk then shuffled around some papers to hide the fact that he was trying to shove something large and clunky into the drawer. “You kids need to get outta here, and soon. If Mabel’s curiosity gets the better of her, she’ll leave right in the middle of the show to search for you.” 

“Um,” Gideon says again. 

The old guy and Pacifica looks at him oddly. “Jesus kid, spit it out.” 

He’s staring with wide eyes behind the two, who are seemingly unaware of the massive sigil which just lit up when Pacifica touched her bloodied finger to the wall to steady herself. How could they have not noticed, he wonders. The thing is literally crackling with energy, visible sparks starting to fly off the entity in the center. Some sparks had bounced off his sister's jacket even. How were they so unaware? 

“OH SHIT,” the guy says and he sprints over to the wall, roughly smearing the bloodied spot off. His hair is whipped by an invisible wind and he’s still swearing loudly as he swipes at the wall with his sleeve. Gideon grabs Pacifica’s windbreaker, hauls the awed girl back from the sigil and rushes forward to the right side to smudge the last, unnoticed section of blood. Pacifica is rubbing her eyes roughly, because she’s almost entirely certain she just watched the thing at the center of the sigil blink. The old guy is grinning somewhat sheepishly, pulling a velveteen curtain back across the sigil. He laughs, but his voice is shaky. “Sorry ‘bout that. Special effect for the show.” It goes without saying that the two are highly doubtful of that fact. 

The blonde ignores him and asks “How do we get out of here?” She’s unzipping and rezipping her windbreaker nervously. There’s a long pause before the man answers.

“I think there’s a back entrance somewhere here.” His hand is on his chin again as he paces towards one wall. The thin light from the bare lightbulb over the desk doesn’t reach the darkness piled up in the corners, but somehow this guy finds some kind of catch on the wall and it seamlessly pops open a wide door. The sudden contrast of sunlight versus dark corridors makes Gideon’s eyes burn but Pacifica is already rocketing outside. He follows much more slowly, blinking up at the sun—it was midday. He has no idea how much time has passed since their entrance but it feels like they were in there for days. 

The second he’s out, he feels the weight of more worries pile onto him eagerly. Like how he’s suddenly remembered he’s left dear, sweet, precious Soos in there as well as Pacifica’s totally normal, albeit slightly threateningly punk girlfriend. He pauses a few moments more to consider that last point—Rita is so incredibly punk that it’s threatening. That is an incredibly silly thought, he thinks. 

Pacifica knocks him out of his shock before he gets in too deep. She points out a text from Soos and Rita that says they’re waiting outside the chain link fence. Soos also mentions he feels simultaneously confused, scared, and bored.

The old guy checks both ways for anyone. But of course, it’s just the three of them in this weird back lot. Pacifica suddenly notices he’s wearing an earbud headset. It loosely hangs around his ear to allow him to wear his hearing aid. A sharp voice comes from the small earbud and she can just barely make out the tinny sounds. It’s Mabel, calling a guy named Stan to the stage. He jumps at the noise and frowns, awkwardly snarking that he’ll “Be right along in a mere second”. It sounds like Mabel’s displeased, if the vehement growls that erupt from the earpiece are any indication. 

“Your name is Stan?” Pacifica asks tonelessly. All her seemingly boundless energy seems to be burnt up now.

“Yeah. Listen…I don’t want you two coming back here, if you can help it. For your own safety and…stuff…I guess,” Stan grumbles, pausing slightly to scratch his head. “If I see you at the door I’m gonna turn you away before they see you. Once you’re inside there isn’t much I can do.” He turns back into the doorway and sighs, frustrated and tired. “Gideon, Pacifica…ugh. I never thought I’d say this but…be careful out there, okay?” He goes back into the tent with a parting “bye” and shuts the door behind him. It practically disappears from view, no outline or anything. 

They rejoin the worried Soos and Rita and head back to the shack to report their findings to Carla, but it isn’t until much, much later that Gideon calms down and realizes: they never told Stan their names.


	7. Gravity Falls, 7:44 A.M.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Mystery Shack gets some mysterious mail, the mysterious Grauntie Carla preserves her sense of mystery and our two favorite mystery kids embark on a mysterious adventure, full of mystery. 
> 
> I'm painfully aware I'm not a very funny person.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm trying to atone for my late chapters, and also starting to get into the rhythm of this story. 
> 
> Thanks for reading, and please tell me if I make any dumb grammar/spelling mistakes. (Johannes' goes by they/them, so sorry if that's a bit confusing. I may not have gotten all the pronouns right.)

Pacifica could hear that old, wheezing mailtruck from at least two miles away. The sun had scarcely climbed above the horizon before its awful sputtering came into earshot. It always stopped by around this time Friday morning. She has a suspicion that it’s because that was the only time Carla was ever up early and outside. At the crack of dawn, Carla would suit up and take a mug of tea out to the back porch to work on her latest attraction for the Friday Night Shack Special. Pacifica watched her work sometimes from the roof of the attic window with a marshmallowy cup of hot chocolate resting between her knees. Carla would take on a youthful aspect and set about constructing her new ruse of the week with boundless creativity. It was fascinating to watch the old woman’s creases and tiredness smooth from her face as she practically brimmed with vim and vigor. She’d even begin to whistle or sing sometimes, especially right before the young mailperson would show up. 

The mailperson was an enigma to Pacifica. They’d show up at all odd hours of the day and night in their mailtruck and never seemed to follow a schedule—aside from their regular and timely Friday morning visits. Though watching Carla create her odd masterpieces was incredibly amusing, watching Johannes deliver the mail was even better. Every outfit was an exclamation, every hairstyle a statement. Their delivery (both in person and in mail) was, as one would say, exactly on point. Sometimes Johannes was dressed as a ruffian with greased back hair and a weary leather jacket (which Pacifica admits, is one of her favorite looks). Other days you’ll have no clue what Jo is wearing but whatever it is, it looks great. As strangely as it seems, Jo is one of the most normal people in Gravity Falls. They’ll show up, deliver the mail, have a friendly and rousing chat with Carla or whoever answers the door first, and take their leave.

This particular morning, Johannes shows up with partially relaxed hair and a sweeping skirt and their leather jacket is zipped up tightly to ward off the chill. They jump out of the truck just as Pacifica is casually choking on an entire marshmallow that she definitely did not just try to swallow whole. The usually passive Jo is smiling, pointing from a flyer they just handed to Carla then up to the roof where Pacifica sat. Carla in turn lit up with a grin and nodded. Jo politely said goodbye and left on that screeching old mailtruck a few minutes later; then hauled out the Closed for Today sign and dashed inside leaving whatever weird man-bear creature she was constructing out on the back porch. Pacifica began wondering what Johannes had said that would get such a tightwad to close up on a FRIDAY. This must be another devious plan of Grauntie Carla’s. 

Pacifica gets her answer when Gideon, Wendy, and Carla are all piled into Grauntie’s old Ford and halfway to Gravity Falls Lake. 

“Oh, a fishing jamboree?” He stopped awkwardly with a deeply unsettled expression coming over him. “That there sounds just…great?” Gideon doesn’t sound sure of himself.

“Gideon, did you just ask me if it sounds great?” Carla accused in a scathing tone. She looked up in the rear-view mirror for around 5 seconds to glare at the white-haired boy and in that five seconds she nearly hit four pedestrians. Wendy was sitting shotgun and she looked terrified.

“…no?” 

Carla grumbled to herself and swerved around a pothole. “C’mon guys this’ll be fun. Family bonding or some crap like that.” The lake was in sight now. It wasn’t even 8 o’clock but there were already tiny boats drifting on the shining waters and the lakeside was filled with pedestrians.

Pacifica leaned towards Wendy and asked for the third time, “Are you sure there’s no grand prize or anything for like, winning or something? There’s gotta be some kind of cash incentive here.”

Carla was peering at her from the corner of her eye. “I can hear you, you know. Very clearly. You’re two feet away from me, Pacifica.” The Ford lurched again into a pothole and caught enough air to nearly fly over the guardrail of the cliff. 

“Grauntie, maybe you should stop wearing your eyepatch in the car!” Gideon cried. 

“Nonsense! It evokes a sense of mystery and—” she was cut off when Gideon leaned forward and tried prying it off her perfectly good eye. She took both her hands off the wheel to try and thwart him.

“Grauntie! I insist you take off that eyepatch!” Gideon was yelling fearfully, his eyes closed for some reason. Wendy actually looked pale and she visibly shrunk back into the seat. It was an impressive feat for someone so tough looking. 

“Carla, please pay attention to the road,” Wendy said, grabbing at the wheel. Gideon had a death-grip on Carla’s eyepatch, but she refused to let go. Pacifica whipped her phone out quickly, not wanting to miss a second of this rapid descent into chaos. Gideon began caterwauling at Carla, who was trying to shake him off while operating the car, and Wendy was trying to drive a truck with no power steering from the passenger seat while dodging flailing limbs. 

They actually pulled up to the Lake without killing anyone, Carla victorious in her battle with Gideon and Wendy victorious in her brush with near death. Carla ushered them out of the truck and down onto the docks. Wendy separated from them and pulled up her own powerhouse boat the SS. Flannel , towing Carla’s own leaky skiff the HMS Spartan Carla. Carla jumped in her skiff and stretched out her arms and back.

“Ah, alright. Come on, you two. Hop on in! We’ve got a long 10 hours of nothing but good times ahead of us. I brought the Big Fat Book of Singin’ Songs, so make sure you’ve got your vocal chords warmed up.” When Carla brought out the unholy thing and swung it around, Gideon visibly flinched and started to back away. Their Grauntie didn’t seem to notice. “Make sure your phones are off and stay that way. Radiowaves scare away the fish.” She flipped open the ugly tackle box, rifling through with intense concentration. “Are they off yet? Show me,” she demanded, leaning forward far enough to rock the boat. Pacifica immediately dug her phone from her pocket and to pacify her but Gideon turned all his pockets inside out only to find nothing. 

“Oh no. Carla. I think may have just gone and lost my phone on the way to the dock—wait up for us!” the boy said, grabbing Pacifica and speed walking off the dock before Carla could protest. 

As soon as they were out of earshot, Pacifica said, “Good thinking.” She glanced back at Carla. The woman was squinting after them with a hawk-eyed precision, which caused her to accidentally stab herself with a fishing hook. In turn, this caused her to jump up and scream, waving her arms around and knocking into the boat docked next to her. 

Gideon whisper shouted, “I think I lost it in the Tent of Telepathy.” The blonde’s head snapped around. 

“Wait—you mean you actually lost it?” This was a joke. It had to be.

“Well…yes,” he admitted. This wasn’t a joke. Pacifica couldn’t believe it. “I wasn’t gonna tell you ‘bout it but…” Gideon looked conflicted and seemed to struggle with his next words. “Well, I was taking a look at that notebook last night and I think I saw that weird demonic pentagram thing while flipping through.” He paused a second as Hyper Joe passed by wielding a frying pan and metal tongs. “Then Wendy walked up and said she’s seen something like it out on Scuttlebutt Island. And those glowy gem thingers were in the book too!” They reached the truck and leaned against it, out of Carla’s sight. “Those twins are terrifyin’ but I think they’re somehow connected to this notebook.” 

Pacifica laughed nervously. “So what exactly are you suggesting, Gidde? We go to Scuttlebutt to look for some devil painting? As cool as that sounds, I highly doubt Grauntie Carla’d be up for that.” Gideon sheepishly smiled and pointed around the car. Pacifica leaned over his head and at the end of his finger she could see Wendy waving at them from her powerhouse boat. “I…” she almost argued with him, but admittedly, it was bound to be better than 10 hours of fishing with Carla. She was slightly surprised that Gideon was the one suggesting dangerous adventure, not her. “Alright,” Pacifica conceded.


	8. Gravity Falls Lake, 9: 20 A.M.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Boat rides are very boring.

Something hit the dock next to Carla’s head. She was rifling through the tacklebox, trying to remember where she had stashed her lucky lure when she remembered she had thrown it at a bear and its cubs in a fit of rage two summers ago. The bear had actually been Womanly Dan and her boys, and Wendy had applauded her efforts to flee from an enraged lumberjack for two full hours. Regardless, there was something on the dock. She peered over the edge, teetering in her rocky skiff. It was just a dollar bill with some fishing line attached to it. She guffawed. 

“A measly dollar? Some sucker thinks I’m gonna chase after a single dollar? I’m not that poor!” She turned away, wiping a tear from her eye, when the dull sound of metal on wood rang again. She whipped her head around and eyed the horizon. No one was in sight. No one she particularly cared about anyways. Paige Turner, the massively unsuccessful writer, editor, and journalist of the Gravity Falls Gossiper was sitting around with her feet in the lake water just waiting for an article to happen. So Carla looked down at the twenty bucks up for grabs on the dock and shrugged, “Why not?” She reached out to grab it and it jerked just out of reach. Her eyebrow rose. Grauntie Carla pulled up her sleeves and cracked her fingers menacingly, then dove at the cash. 

Approximately twenty seconds later, Gideon released the dog and it ran away, chasing the dog treat dangling in front of it. He frowned. “Huh. I never would have thought that you keeping all those dog treats in your jacket all the time would actually turn out to be useful one day.” The blond grinned broadly and pulled out a disgusting handful of gritty brown treats.

“I keep cat treats too!” she declared, looking entirely too satisfied with herself. She joined Gideon by the alley corner and watched Carla blur by shockingly fast, shouting profanities with unbelievable force at the flying twenty dollars. They stepped out, and Paige passed them, running much, much slower and waving a pad of paper in the air. 

“Waaaaait! Waaaait! I need to interview you!”, she wailed in a highly nasal and scratchy voice. She awkwardly ran after them with a hitching, skippy gait. The brother and sister quickly walked back to the docks, keeping an eye out just in case Carla did catch up to the dog. Pacifica unzipped her jacket and pulled out her phone, shooting a text to Wendy. While the two waited, Gideon pulled the journal out of his jacket, carefully keeping it out of view and started leafing through the pages. 

He had just found the page with the sigil when Pacifica dragged him out onto S.S. Flannel. More specifically, when she slapped the book shut and half-pushed Gideon down the dock, an arm around his shoulder. Oh no. She was tilting her head at him expectantly. This was the tell-tale signs of a proposition. She began to take a deep inhale but Gideon stopped her. “What is it?”, he asked morbidly. He clamored over the edge of the boat ahead of her, plopping onto the boat deck. 

“Nothing,” she immediately replied, snapping her mouth closed tightly and looking away. Gideon looked at her with unsurprised disbelief, but ignored her for now. Wendy was waving them over to the bow. She had them pull up the docking rope while she set up the cabin. After only a few short minutes of hauling rope, Gideon could see Pacifica staring at him with a mischievous expression again. 

“What is it?”, he sighed. He knew what she was going to say already, but still hoped she wouldn’t. 

“Nothing, Gidde!”, she said, trying to hide her scheming grin behind a sharp voice. She wrapped the last foot of rope and set it down. They joined Wendy by the cabin and the woman gunned it. Carla was still nowhere to be seen, though Paige had returned to forlornly stare at the lake. They left the dock quickly, before Carla had the chance to come back and make old-dog eyes at them to make them truly regret leaving her behind. Like ripping off a band-aid. Quick and easy. Painless. Like taking candy from an elder. Gideon realized that making all the dumb comparisons in the world could not mask the uneasy guilt he felt for abandoning her without explanation. 

This, he thought, was why he never was the one to suggest adventures. He always worried about the consequences and effects. His sister on the other hand…

His sister on the other hand…was staring right at him with an intimidating smile and disturbingly off-putting pleased expression. “What. Is. It!”, he shouted above S.S. Flannel’s roaring engine and the slap of the waves. Somehow, the blonde’s smile widened. “Quit being obstinate!”

Her grin went from pleased to toothily intimidating in seconds. “So we’re meeting someone on the island.” Gideon was already frowning, giving her an intense look of disbelief that would put The Office to shame. Pacifica looked excited to say who. “It’s—“

“Rita,” he guessed. The boat was slowing down now that the island was in view, so he had to brace himself against the guardrail. The waves were much more rockier here than they were by the lakefront.

“Yes! I’m glad you’re finally starting to accept her, Gidde,” she beamed. Pacifica pulled out her scrunchy to adjust her ponytail, sticking in her mouth whiles she pulled her hair back. 

“Acceptance is not the same thing as liking,” he deadpanned. He flopped over the railing, reaching down to feel the misted spray from the water with his fingertips. Mulling over his words he corrected himself, “Or at least it’s not the same thing as trusting.” Even after discovering she was fangless, he still had a hard time believing she was completely harmless. It wasn’t just stereotyping…it was just…a weird gut feeling. Like the feeling he got when he was scared out of his mind by the twins, just less psychotically insane and more “not human”.

The boat’s humming slowed, but the slap of the waves remained. Wendy was pulling up to the shore now. The island itself looked as misty as it had from the lakeside. Beyond the dewy pines, secrets waited. Gideon was certain of it.


	9. Scuttlebutt Island, 10:00 A.M.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The kids've got problems. Not just the ones that are little.
> 
> It's those creepy forest problems. They're something to consider ;)

Wendy secured the S.S. Flannel as best she could, considering there were no docks on Scuttlebutt Island. It only took 10 minutes, but Pacifica already felt on edge as she watched the woman secure safety ropes to a rigid pine trunk. Gideon didn’t seem to notice anything weird or if he did, he ignored it. That in itself she thought was odd because normally it was Gideon who sensed danger first. Side eyeing him, she could see excitement brimming from the usually timid boy as he hopped from foot to foot, fingers digging into the spine of the notebook. His mood had seemed to do a complete turn face once he was on solid land.

She kept glancing back at the woods behind her, and as cliche as it sounded—she felt eyes on her. Not in the sense that something was watching her but that someone was aware of her presence and that they were not pleased. Her phone buzzed and she lost her death clutch on it, dropping it in the mud. She laughed nervously when Gideon turned to her as she picked it up and smeared it on her windbreaker. She gave him a fake grin and much to her chagrin, he returned it with a big smile of his own. 

“Oh, good, Rita’s almost here,” the blonde said, peeking at her notifications. “You seem pretty excited to hike around this creepy island, Gidde.” The white haired boy just casually shrugged. Wendy was slogging through the mire towards them, sweeping her baseball cap on again. Her fingers left muddy tracks around the rim.

“What, you mean you aren’t?”, the redhead asked, giving a good-natured smile to them. She wiped her forehead with the back of her hand, only succeeding to further smear dirt on herself. They’d been on dry land for less than twenty minutes and the woman already looked like she wrestled a panther in the mud and won. 

Pacifica shrugged and turned to the forest. “Let’s just say it’s a better alternative to fishing.” 

Gideon made towards the nearest pine tree and rested his hand on the bark, yanking out the notebook from his jacket with the other one. “I might be able to find answers here. Those twins weren’t normal—somehow their powers are linked to Gravity Falls. I think I have a theory.”

“God knows we can’t stop you once you start to theorize, Gideon,” the redhead joked. After a second she asked, “We set to head out?” Pacifica shook her head in reply. 

“Just waiting for one more.” 

“Would it happen to be this one?”, someone supplied from behind the huddled group. Pacifica let out an undignified squeak and twisted around, while Gideon jumped and actually clutched at his heart, tripping on knotted roots and falling against the tree. Wendy was the only one not to flinch, instead looking amused. 

“Rita!”, Pacifica cried in a wavering voice, trying to play off her start. Pacifica slung an arm around the girl and pulled her in to kiss her cheek quickly, nervously giggling. “Hah, you almost scared me there!” Rita grinned and returned the kiss. Gideon picked himself up, and nodded at Rita. He still seemed uncomfortable around her, but it couldn’t be helped. Maybe they’d bond over their apparent love for the supernatural. Her girlfriend’d nearly leapt at the chance to head to Scuttlebutt.

Wendy was starting to walk off, but she peeked back at them from around the pine. “Now we’re set? Good.” Gideon followed her, slipping away from the two with a tense but friendly smile. Rita made a sweeping “after you” gesture so Pacifica went behind him, with Rita strolling at the rear. 

For a few minutes there was silence, but Rita had been looking contemplative since she showed up. Now, they had been dating for just a handful of weeks, but Pacifica knew this meant her girlfriend was feeling mischievous. She was twirling a green dread around her finger and examining her nails as they walked. None of the island’s creepiness seemed to get to Rita. Was she the only one feeling this? Wendy seemed jovial as ever, Gideon was examining everything without even a hint of hesitance, and Rita was ambling along casually, as if she was at home here. Dear God, this all seemed so cliche. Pacifica was expecting bats to fly out of nowhere suddenly. Or for a twig to snap and then, boom, axe murderer behind her. 

But nope, nothing but bugs and trees seemed to inhabit the island for as far as the eye could see. Which wasn’t very far, considering the excessive fog. Rita coughed pointedly, pulling Pacifica out of her speculative reverie. The girl had pulled ahead and was following behind Gideon closely—Pacifica was taking up the end of their line, but they were close enough together that she could hear Rita’s rumbling question “So, Gideon. I hear this was your idea?” Something about the way she posed it was threatening. Gideon immediately became defensive, slowing his step to glare at Rita and visibly pulling his arms in closer. 

Pacifia was reminded of a growling Rottweiler towering over an angry Poodle; she then proceeded to try and hide her amusement with the image. She did a pretty good job of it too. Only a few snickers escaped as Gideon attempted the most menacing tone he could muster. “Yea. What of it?” 

The girl replied cooly, gesturing calmly to the forest. “Bluntly put, you don’t seem like the hiking type, my friend.” 

“I’m not. We’re investingatin’ something.”

“Investigating? What exactly are you planning to investigate out here?” 

Gideon was gradually getting more distressed, going from frown to scowl. This didn’t look good. Pacifica was about to interrupt when Gideon snapped, “Somethin’ supernatural. You wouldn’t happen to know of anythin’ paranormal happenin’ round Gravity Falls, would ya, miss?” He was leaning upwards to get in her face, but it wasn’t quite working because of the height difference. His blue eyes narrowed so far that they appeared black, and Rita sort of upturned her nose, an uneasy grimace twisting her features. 

“Gideon—“, Pacifica pleaded.

“Guys, before you start shanking each other with twigs, you may want to look at this.” Wendy pulled back tangles of vines and brambles to reveal a creased sandstone cliff face. It’s surface was scored and rough with engravings, and many areas were discolored with faded graffiti. In the center of it all, was a cracking sigil inscribed in the sandstone, with rusted stains flecking off the corners. Above it, in fresher spray paint was a face with black holes for eyes and a red fanged grin next to the phrase “A gleeful escapade!”


	10. Scuttlebutt Island, 10:24 A.M.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Velvet and sparking sigils just go together so well, right?
> 
> Someone in Gravity Falls seems to think so, at the very least.
> 
> ** Heads up for those of you with triggers...there's a tiny mention of some minor trauma to the head and consequential bleeding near the end of the chapter. **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Do you know how many papers I've written in the last three days alone? Eight. Eight whole papers.
> 
> RIP in peace my precious free time. 
> 
> As always, if you see a spelling mistake or some dumb grammar please tell me. Questions, comments, and criticisms are always appreciated.

He could feel the anger leaving him in sheets. It was odd how quickly it evaporated, but that didn’t matter to him right now. He could only feel something spurring him on closer to the circular design. He had to get a better look. That was all he could think of. He needed to look at the gentle curves of the sigil—warning be damned. Before he recognized what was happening, he was at the foot of the cliff, pressing his fingers against warm, scratchy sandstone.

He craned his head up. There was something sticking out from the center of the sigil. God, he wanted to find out what it was. The outer perimeter of the sigil itself was several feet above him; he instantly thought to climb up and looked for footholds and missing chunks. Something hauled him back from the cliff, and he turned away after what felt like millennia from the rock. 

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves, Gideon.” Wendy had a confused but well-meaning smile on. Her hand rested on his shoulder, and he stared at it oddly. 

Pacifica gave a fake, frightened chuff to get his attention. “Yeah, what exactly was it that you were just doing there?” Her voice was high. Gideon thought she looked scared. He wondered why. This was the most interesting thing in the world! Behind the blonde, Rita stood with a icy, but indifferent gaze. She didn’t even seem to be looking at the marking, instead staring off at the surrounding graffiti. If he had looked more closely, he might have even realized Rita was squinting slightly at the spray paint.

But he swung his hand up to point at the sigil. “There’s somethin’ attached to the center.” Gideon turned around to head towards it again unthinkingly.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa! Gideon, stop for a second!” Pacifica rushed forwards to grab him, and held him back from it. Now she really looked spooked. “Gideon… we wouldn’t want to have to carry you back if you fell and got hurt, right? Plus… getting blood on these things is bad news, yeah?” She seemed to be asking these questions more for her own benefit than his.

“I need to get up there.”

“Pacifica’s right, we should be careful around here. I can…maybe I could lift you up on my shoulders? It’s safer.” Wendy walked over to the wall and started judging the distance, while Gideon watched her with a disinterested gaze. “Pacifica’ll need to get on my shoulders first if we’re gonna reach it,” she noted. 

Pacifica opened her mouth, ready to object, but shut it and pursed her lips together. “Alright,” the blonde answered tightly. Wendy crouched down and Pacifica looped her legs over the woman’s shoulders. Her stepbrother had to climb up the two, struggling to settle on Pacifica’s shoulders with her slippery windbreaker. The long silence was tense and awkward.

When he was finally settled on his sister’s shoulders, Wendy began standing up. Gideon and Pacifica put their palms against the stone as she did so to remain stabilized. When she was fully upright, Pacifica’s chest barely reached the sigil’s outer circle, and Gideon’s head was just below the inner circle. Gideon wobbled at the top for a few moments, reaching for the small velvet bag suspended on a thick nail. His fingertips could just barely graze it. 

After a couple of minutes, he let out a frustrated grunt. “Hold on,” Pacifica muttered. Gideon started swaying as she tilted precariously. She somehow maneuvered so that she was kneeling on Wendy’s broad shoulders and lifting her brother as high as she could. A few inches higher, Gideon made a grab at the straps on the bag, missing at first. He almost scooted the bag off the nail with the second swipe. With his third reach, everything went to hell. 

He utterly missed the bag with an irritated, aggressive snatch, and reeled backwards from the force of his movement. Pacifica compensated by leaning forward sharply, and Gideon’s torso snapped up, banging his forehead against the rough sandstone. Blood welled up immediately and began flowing violently from the cut, dripping into Gideon’s eyes and off his face. While trying to regain his balance and his sense of direction, he grabbed his sister’s head, further yanking her off kilter. Beneath them, Wendy struggled to compensate for the rapid-fire weight shifts. She let go of Pacifica in the process.  
The sigil was activating. It was spitting sparks all over the place. Gideon was trying to stop the blood flow with one hand and the other, slick with blood, was sliding along the circle, smearing ugly crimson streaks into the stone. For the first time since arriving on the island, Gideon was scared. Whatever had drawn him to this place was gone now—replaced with the feeling that something irreversible had just occurred. He knew this, when he felt stone give way underneath him, felt himself and Pacifica fall forward into emptiness. At first he heard Pacifica gasping, then something shrieking at them with incredible force and faintly, heard Wendy shouting. 

Something clicked in his head. Something so damn obvious. The message was for them. The “gleeful” message was scrawled “northwest” of the sigil. Someone knew this would happen. Someone meant for this to happen.

The last thing he distantly heard was Rita’s sudden, raw scream to Wendy.

“NO! THEY CAN’T BE HERE—NO, WENDY GET AGAINST THE WALL, NOW!”


	11. Chapter 10.5, Gravity Falls Lake, 10:30 A.M.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> CHAPTER 10.5 
> 
> Now for our regularly scheduled commercial break.

Those damn kids. THEY KNEW. SHE KNEW THEY KNEW. Sure, she was twenty bucks richer but she was down two kids and a full employee. Everyone showed up to the fishing jamboree with kids or acquaintances. It was an embarrassment to go alone. And here Carla was sitting in HMS Spartan Carla by herself. Technically. 

Of course, she didn’t count Paige Turner, who was flopping around in the back of the skiff uselessly. Why was she flopping around? Hell if Carla knew. Something about an exclusive interview she was DYING to get back to shore to do with some crazy dog (Carla assumed she meant dawg, as in the kid slang, but Paige insisted she had an actual canine interview she needed to conduct). The flopping was nearly as embarrassing and boring as the whole “alone” thing, so she turned to the spectacled woman.

“Alright Paige,” she started with saccharine sweetness. She cracked her knuckles and slapped a ratty fishing hat on her head. “Let’s get this jamboree started.” Carla tossed a pole to the woman (somehow she managed to completely miss grabbing it and the pole smacked against her thick framed glasses) and stood up suddenly, the boat swaying dangerously underneath her. 

“…uh, I’d really rather not. Unless you’ve got a good story, I really have something I should be getting back to. I’m a busy woman, you know.” She spoke with one of those old Transatlantic accents, they quick snippy ones reporters used to use. Her voice was so nasally high though, it made it impossible for Carla to hear her. To be specific, Paige’s voice was so annoying she completely tuned it out and replaced it with her own words. 

“That’s great, Paige! I’m glad to see you’re so enthusiastic about this.” 

“I’m not…”, the reporter protested, eyes narrowed in confusion and her mouth hanging open dumbly. She held the pole in one hand and a pad of paper in her other fist. Carla guffawed, slapping her knee and nearly overturning the boat. 

“Oh, Ms. Turner, you crack me up,” Carla laughed, wiping a tear from the corner of her eyepatch. “Now get to fishing.”


	12. Unknown, 10:42 A.M.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Remember how I said this was going to get dark? 
> 
> This chapter is the getting dark part. 
> 
> ***Triggers: blood, head trauma, temporary/situational blindness, injury.***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I updated the first 2 chapters to fix the first person POV and add in a few small details. Nothing was added that will change the plot, but if you want to give them a read feel free. 
> 
> However, if any of you want to read the original two chapters I could post those.
> 
> Comments are love (especially corrections).

The first thing Gideon noticed, was that he couldn’t notice anything. Or he thought he couldn’t. It took seconds after impact to gain some of sense of self. It started with his fingertips, and how a thousand fragile pinpricks were digging into them. He tried to close his hand into a fist and tiny, gritty bits broke off the ground and bit into his palms. His face felt warm for once—he could feel something hot and smooth moving against it, and then felt the miniature pins digging into his cheeks. 

He pushed himself onto his hands and knees, and then he began to hear. When he moved, things slowly crunched beneath him. Was he back in the Pines’ tent? Did they catch him and Pacifica and knocked them down into those mirror fragments? His blood chilled. Where was Pacifica? He heard ragged breathing, but wasn’t sure it was his own. He felt breathless, even. His throat was dry and every breath he took whistled through his throat, struggling down into his lungs. He tasted metal, salt, and earth on his lips. There was no dirt in the mirrored hallways. Nor was there a constant, far-away dripping noise.

Hot liquid was dribbling down his face, but Gideon couldn’t see anything; just that florescent lighting you see through your eyelids on a bright day. But he swore his eyes were open. When he heard crackling, he snapped his head around, straining desperately to figure out where the noise was generated from. A waft of air hit his face like a column—foul and fragrant at the same—and it nearly knocked him out with its power. And in the interim between wafts, he smelt death and decay. Rotten meat, like Grauntie’s Roadkill Dinner Specials before she added the “Dinner Special” part.

The final sensation that hit him was pain. His chest ached with every breath, blossoming through his torso like a flower, waking his body up to the deep scrapes and long cuts he suffered from. It felt like there was a painful stinging almost everywhere—hands, knees, face, neck, shoulders, abdomen, thighs. His forehead radiated pain, and his eyes stung with tears, grit, and what he realized was blood flowing freely down his face. He slapped a hand to his forehead, trying to stop the bleeding. The wound was too fresh though, and it gushed blood at such a rate that Gideon’s hand just slipped around on his face uselessly. He smeared as much as he possible off his face and out of his eyes and a distorted, reflective cast shifted on his field of view. 

There was a weak sound next to him, and then something gripped his ankle. He jerked out and kicked whatever it was, involuntarily dragging himself backwards until his back was pressed hard into a jagged wall. The weak noise followed him, rasping words at him. It took him a moment to recognize that the rasping was his name. He couldn’t back away any further so he squeezed himself into as small a space as he could and waited, holding his breath. A hand grabbed his elbow, then his wrist, and slid into his hand, squeezing hard. 

“Gideon…?” The rough, mangled voice of his sister tried again. The recognition of Pacifica gave him instant, immense relief. “…what happened?”, she asked, moving her hand up to feel his forehead. Blood stuck to her fingers and made her grip tacky, but she held onto him anyways. 

Trying to speak only resulted in a harsh wheezing sound and a asthmatic whispering noise. He wanted to ask her the same questions. But he couldn’t find the breath to speak. Increasingly flustered, he started shaking from a concoction of emotions and physical afflictions. 

Pacifica found a way to bridge the gap, incidentally. “Nod if you can hear me,” she murmured, placing a hand gently on his head (it was then Gideon noticed that his hat was gone). He nodded.

“Can you move?” Another yes. 

“Can you see?” He didn’t move, so Pacifica repeated the question. “Gideon, can you see?” Slowly, slowly, Gideon shook his head no. His heart plummeted when Pacifica whispered back, “Neither can I.” Gideon was supposed to be the calm, rational one, right? Then why was he the one freaking out? Why was he quivering and nearly crying? Pacifica had one arm wrapped around his neck carefully, pulling him in closer to her. He kept trying to talk to her, but no words came out of his throat. He could only hear the sound of his hoarse breaths until Pacifica shushed him, tapping his neck. “I think I hear something.” 

He stopped trying to talk, pausing and listening intently, She was right. A thump, a tiny shrill chiming, a thump, and a louder chiming. Crunching preceded whatever it was, as did a humid wave of rotting stench. They both mentally reached the same conclusion at the exact same moment: we need to leave, now. So Pacifica trying scrambling to her feet, using Gideon as a stabilizer of sorts and then locking her arm in his and pulling him up. The ground they stood on was uneven and their shoes both slid and caught on the tiny jagged edges, making for frustratingly slow progress. Both of the siblings were leaning on the other for support. 

They could barely hear the noise over their dry panting. In fact, they couldn’t hear it at all until it was entirely too late. Teeth snapped together and an eerie, wet hissing filled the air. Gideon slipped when he heard it, and had to snag Pacifica’s other arm to stay upright. She cried out in pain and they both went down, Pacifica tumbling over Gideon’s torso and both of them slamming into and shattering a small wall of the knifelike fragments. It splintered off easily, showering them in a cacophonous cascade of sharp needles. Coughs wracked Gideon’s frame, as he tried to displace the sharp grit from his mouth and throat. He tried to rub the mix of blood and sand from his eyes and cracked them open again. The only thing he saw in a sea of solid white was a handful of burning green fires.


	13. Unknown Coastline, 10:57 A.M.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Idle minds can poison themselves. 
> 
> **Triggers: blood, injury mention**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let's see if I can make this into a tragedy. 
> 
> Thanks to all my readers! Please comment if you notice and spelling/grammar mistakes.
> 
> If you have any questions, check out my tumblr. Same username; whoisthiswho.

Pacifica swore her brother had never moved so fast in his entire life. He rocketed to his feet, always making sure he was in contact with her, and helped her pull herself up. In the general blurry area behind him, she could see green flames growing larger and larger. She didn’t have time to think what it was because soon Gideon was pulling her numb mind along and the fires died down. She was dizzy from the fall still, struggling to maintain her balance and footing, and yet her brother guided her infallibly. Almost infallibly. After many minutes of stumbling around and slipping on shards of…something…they paused.

Gideon crumpled next to her, and his hand slipped from hers. She knew he was trying to stop the bleeding from his head wound, because when his hand returned to her arm, it was slick and wet with hot blood. Wordlessly, she felt for the wound and removed her crew sock. She was missing her right shoe but not her sock. And despite it being shredded during their escape, it was better than nothing. 

“Gideon hold the other end of this to your temple,” she mumbled, lining up the material just under his hairline. In her best one handed attempt, she tied it off. “Apply pressure when you can,” she rasped, pressing his other hand against his forehead. He nodded, tried to speak, and ended up having a coughing fit. Eventually he quieted down, and eventually their hearts stopped pounding from adrenaline, and eventually they both realized that there was a soft thump nearby. Followed by chiming. 

Pacifica held her breath and strained to hear. She didn’t need to strain long. The next noise broke through from above, shattering the roof like glass and hailing sharp shards down on the two siblings. The beast landed next to them with a ground-shaking thump. The fire danced before Pacifica, swimming in her watery eyes. A wave of salted sea air hit her full force, and left a rotted stench in its wake. The siblings struggled to their feet, trying to find an exit when they couldn’t even see the ground in front of them. Pacifica led them stumbling into the beast, and the skin that brushed against her face was clammy and tinged red like clay—she saw the blurred color only as it passed centimeters from her eyes. 

She wanted to scream. She would have been screaming if she had air in her lungs. Gideon was managing a sobbing wheeze, but Pacifica felt like every bit of oxygen had been sucked from her lungs. 

They ran. They ran headfirst into walls, and slammed into corridors, and the slow moving beast followed them through it all. Pacifica’s whole body felt numb except her left hand— it was hot and wet with Gideon’s blood, but still gripping it tightly. They lost track of time—the beast pursued them tirelessly, tripped and tore at their legs, but never cornered them. The only sure way they could recognize it was from sound alone. It was deathly quiet except for their breathing, footsteps and its movement noises. 

Gideon hadn’t spoken a word, though he tried many times. Eventually he shut down, in a manner of speaking. When they weren’t running, he was curled up on the rough, biting ground. He didn’t react when Pacifica spoke. She was worried about his head wound. What if he had a concussion? He couldn’t speak to tell her. What if he had lost a lot more blood than she thought? No way to know. She couldn’t carry him if he passed out. Not with the fracture in her right arm. 

Thoughts and worries ate at Pacifica in the downtime, while fear and terror consumed her as the monster drew near. They were enough to distract her from the far off pounding that she was leading her brother directly towards; the sea. When she noticed lights and darks in her vision at last, she kept moving. She was certain they were nearing an exit. Only the blue expanse that opened suddenly in front of her halted their progress. 

It wasn’t an exit. It was an end. 

Behind, something crashed in, and Pacifica’s watery and weak eyes struggled to make out its form. Looking in at the bright white brilliance of the cave burned her eyes, but she could just barely see the brown clay moving. 

No exit. Gideon’s hand slipped from hers.

Just an end. He was covered in more blood than he should have been. 

And a monster. One reaching for her brother. 

Pacifica was in front of him faster than an eyeblink, arms thrown wide as a sacrifice, eyes shut against the terrible green burning, and ready for her end. Fuck it, she thought. There were worse ways to go. Clammy fingers slipped around her arms and a foul breath enveloped her. The force of the monster’s inhale drew her loose hair forward. The beast screamed like a dying whale and drew back, rocketing into the ceiling. Her eyes snapped open. It whipped its body back and forth, hitting the walls. Each impact caused white shards to rain down and shatter like glass. Thick, ropey cords of brown blood flung from the beast as it shook. It’s clay form was retreating into the cave as it let out shrill, unearthly howls. The last flick of its form left Pacifica’s vision and she fell on her knees, shaking. 

She crawled to Gideon, saw his eyes were barely open and following her, and read his lips as he mouthed, “Thank God”, over and over again. He propped himself up and she dropped on the other side of the cave. They stared at the sea cresting a good hundred feet below them and listened intently until the waves drowned out all noise the beast made.


	14. Unknown Coastline, 4 P.M.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gideon and Pacifica meet some crystal gems. Unfortunately, they aren't the Crystal Gems. 
> 
> **Triggers: Minor blood mention, implied injury**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so slow, and so sorry. 
> 
>  
> 
> I'm titling chapters differently. Also, the first two chapters were rewritten. Nothing significant was added, just some POV adjustments. Please tell me if I missed any grammar or spelling issues. 
> 
>  
> 
> And lastly, thanks for reading.

Geode. They were in a cave system of white, overgrown geode crystals. Almost waking from a trance, Gideon grabbed a handful of the loose bits, and balanced them in his palm. Pacifica turned to look at him. She looked confused about what he was doing, but sat silently and watched as Gideon brought them up to his eyes and rocked his hand back and forth. He winced when the falling sun caught the crystals and glinted into his eyes. He did this for a few minutes before he flung them down and stared at Pacifica.

“This is awful,” he summated. Pacifica nodded and hummed an agreement, tugging at the tattered pieces of her torn jacket and returning to staring at the sky. Gideon sighed. He swished around some of the geode on the floor before pausing, wiping his hands on his vest, and tugging one of his curls down. “Pink,” he muttered, without explanation.

The blonde suddenly glanced at him in surprise. It just occurred to her that Gideon could talk again; granted he was being nondescript as ever, and his voice sounded so weak she could hardly make out his words, but he was talking. There wasn’t a single pink thing in the cave, as far as she could tell.

Gideon’s lips were moving and, with a puzzled stare, he mouthed “pink?” again. 

The blonde asked, “What do you mean?” 

The boy gestured wildly to the lock he held between his bloodied fingers. “My hair is not supposed to be pink!” The boy sounded alarmed, but he only looked confused. His voice was coming out in a rough squeak. “I mean…pink’s a fine color an’ all but I’m albino. My hair’s white!” She snorted and stood up. “I’m bein’ serious here Pacifica! Why is my hair pink?!” 

She placed a hand on his head. “Gideon.” He looked up at her slowly, blinking confusedly, expecting her to tell him something dire had happened. “You’re not being serious. You’re being silly.” She gently shook his head back and forth with each word. He frowned slowly, but took the hand that Pacifica eventually offered him. 

“I suppose you’re right. We should move or somethin’. We can’t just sit here,” he murmured to himself. Pacifica was happy as long as Gideon seemed to be functioning…she could worry about the potential for a concussion later but if they had any hope of walking out of here, she would need him to do it by himself. She bobbed her head to agree but paused, bringing her sleeve up to her mouth to chew at the edge. Cogs were turning.

“That’s a lovely idea, Gidde. Only one problem. There’s a bigass monster somewhere in here with us.” She started pacing, crunching geode but winced and halted immediately. “And there’s a bigass ocean for our only exit. With bigass rocks. And bigass waves.” Gideon’s face screwed up in displeasure and he started examining their surroundings more closely.

“Pacifica, we are werewolves not swearwolves,” he chided absently. They were both trying to be lighthearted about their situation, and only sort of achieving their goal. It was difficult to ignore the bloodstained clothes they wore and the ripped skin burning with every movement. 

“Speaking of paranormal beasts…what was that…thing? Could you see?” Even talking about it made her feel wary, like if she turned and looked hard enough she’d be able to see it’s green eyes leering back at her from the depths of the cave. She unthinkingly shifted closer to the ocean cliff. She could still feel the clammy hand on her wrist, the chill marking her like a brand. She hoped it would fade as the rest of her feeling had in that arm, but it persisted long after the encounter. She distantly wondered if Gideon’s book knew what that beast was. 

“No,” Gideon clipped, brow furrowed. His eyes were nearly crossing as he looked up at what apparently was his forehead. “Is this a sock?” he asked, pointing to his makeshift bandage. He paused, face colliding through mixed emotions of disgust, gratitude, conflict, confusion before he fantastically concluded, “Is this ‘your’ sock?” He answered and immediately regretted his question when he saw her bare foot imbedded with geode and sticky with crimson stains.

Pacifica didn’t respond, watching a bird dive-bomb the waters below, and trying to gauge how safe it would be for her and Gideon to swan dive into the water or something similar. The bird dipped below the sea and popped up just as fast with a fish between its beak. But the silver fish slid from the gull’s slack beak and flopped back into the sea as the bird began to ascend again, pumping its wings rapidly and keening sharply.

Water rose up soundlessly behind the gull and a grotesque sandy brown hand broke from the surf to slap the bird into the rocks. Moments later the “hand” grabbed it’s dazed body floating on the water and dragged it beneath the ocean. Unthinkingly, Pacifica moved closer to the cave. Bubbles were frothing at the surface of the water. Gideon must have caught sight of Pacifica’s horrified face, because after a moment he had joined her, hands dropping from the sock. They were all around. Either way they would face the creatures. 

Pacifica couldn’t move her eyes from the fleeting red foam as it instantly began dissipating. The waves heaved once; she watched a dark mass slide beneath the surf. “Okay. Let’s leave.” 

Gideon nodded and the two slowly backed away from the cliff. 

A hand gently touched each of their shoulders, and they froze instantly. 

“Let’s,” Rita agreed.


	15. Unknown Coastline, 4:11 P.M.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some kind of offensive "your mama" joke.

Gideon was actually the first one to whirl and hug Rita, albeit involuntarily. She peered down at him with her green eyes and when those eyes slowly rose to meet Pacifica’s, the blond suddenly made a connection. She grabbed the boy’s shaking shoulder and pulled him from her girlfriend’s side. Quietly, gently, with a voice smoother than ice, the blonde said,” Explain this.” 

Rita held her gaze steady, and rummaged through her back pocket to pull out something small. Not breaking eye contact, she tossed the bag at Gideon, who misjudged the toss and let it lamely fall at his feet. He confusedly grabbed it, and watched the two girls as they stared each other down. After a significant amount of tension, she nervously cracked her knuckles and turned around so she wouldn’t face Pacifica. “In the simplest terms possible—my mother just tried to eat you.” 

A beat passed. “—your ma?”, the boy sputtered, struggling to get the words out while he grimaced. His fingers dug into the velvet and he craned his head forward to inspect Rita. Sure, he didn’t exactly like the girl, but Gideon had finally began accepting she wasn’t a monster. She didn’t look like that thing; not that he would have been able to tell with the blinding light and all, but she was small and looked human and didn’t smell like Roadkill Specials. He huffed, trying to start a sentence again. “Your ma?! Really?? I thought we were going to die in this cave filled with this horrific monster trying to eat us and you’re telling us that it’s your ma?”

“Shhh, Gideon,” Pacifica murmured. “Rita’s a rusalka,” the blonde stated, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. She still seemed on edge, holding herself back from Rita and staying carefully close to Gideon.

Rita nodded to confirm and Gideon looked wildly between them, shaking the bag at them threateningly. “Oh my God.” He flapped the the air and rolled his eyes heavenward. “Oh good golly Molly! You don’t have to say it so matter of factly!” They looked at him in surprise and he continued, “I spent how long tryin’ to figure out what you were? A pretty damn long time!” The boy’s tiny frame was quivering with discontent. “And you. You just… knew it? And you didn’t tell me? Didja know it was her mother that was slobberin’ all over us, too?” He just kept unloading, alternating between pacing the cave anxiously and waving the bag at each of them. “I am just—God! You’ve been dating a what…? A sea monster?” His face was red-tinged and he looked dizzily at them. “I hate to be the nanny here but you—“ 

He stopped only to suck in a deep breath of air and exhale loudly. He froze, shaking his head back and forth slowly. “Do you two smell that?” 

Rita bolted past them suddenly, eyes focusing behind Pacifica. Gideon whirled, blood chilling under his skin. It was brine, and rot, and Womanly Dan’s B.O. mixed together in one unpleasant package. And it’s milky eyes were trained on Gideon and his stepsister. Rita extended a hand soothingly. “Hey, mom,” she whispered. “Hey.” Rita’s mother gave a soft grumbling sigh that was drowned out by a warbling sound. It’s white eyelid slid back and the cave lit up with an emerald blaze that flickered over the three kids.

They could finally clearly see it. The rusalka squatted with a massive, malformed jaw which clenched and unclenched several times and with layers of pearly eyes carefully examining them. It must have been humanoid at one point, but now it’s face was layered with swollen lines in some areas and crisscrossed by burned, charred clay skin covered by a slick, wet film in other areas. One arm was too long, and the other was a finned flipper, lumpy and unnatural. Oddly enough, lovely braids curled like a mane from its back and down the sides of its face. Vibrant aquatic flowers were woven with care throughout the heavy black locks. When its head lowered down far enough fresh wounds to its neck and forehead were visible. A few of its eyes were shut and crusted with dark muddy stains. The way this creature looked, Gideon would have thought it was animatronic if not for the cautious intelligence hidden within its gaze. 

“She’s asking why I know you,” Rita translated. “…and why I gave Pacifica my talisman,” the girl said a little softer. Rita peered over her shoulder at them. “My mother is very ill. Her words are not always the clearest, and her mind is not always the most open. I found that bag on the floor where you first fell in—I will explain while you check it. There is something…distressing inside.” She addressed both of them but her eyes bore into Gideon cooly. 

He squeezed the dark red velvet of the bag and shook it, but it made no noise at first. He drew it close to his nose and sniffed, then moved it close to his ear. There was a soft clinking. He hesitated to open it, rolling the drawstrings between his fingers. Gideon had been ravenously curious about its contents before, but now, in this place, he felt nothing but abject fear. There was some supernatural force that had affected him on the island, and that scared him. He almost wanted to hand it off to Pacifica, but her eyes were trained on Rita’s mother. 

While Rita murmured in odd tones to the beast, Gideon pulled the drawstring bag open and inverted it onto the cave floor, shutting an eye against it initially. When nothing blew up in his face, and crouched on his heels to sift through bits of shredded glass. There was glass more than he had expected—and he spotted a corner of glossy paper that was poking through. Geode crunched next to him, and Pacifica squatted at his side, reaching for it.  
“Careful,” Rita cautioned. Nodding sharply, Pacifica grabbed the paper and pulled out a photograph, shaking glass dust off it and laying it face up. Rita’s mother made some odd warbling noise and shifted while the twins squinted at the image. What they had been reaching for in the velvet bag was a polaroid picture of themselves, reaching for the velvet bag. It was taken from an impossible angle—a camera would have had to be inside the cliff face. The bleeding red grin was painted over Gideon’s face, and over Pacifica’s neck was a golden footprint. 

Gideon’s fingers went numb, the bag slipping from them and he felt his blood run cold through his veins. Utterly still, his gaze was transfixed on the image. “There was a naturally occurring portal there and someone took that from the edge of the portal,” Rita assessed. “But that picture was in the bag before you set foot on Scuttlebutt.” 

Pacifica was taking this surprisingly well, or Gideon at least thought she was. She calmly asked, “How do you know?’

“It’s smell is distinct from the glass. It’s got a strong scent and I could tell once we got to the clearing that it was coming from the bag. I thought it was harmless,” Rita mumbled regretfully. 

Gideon wordlessly picked up the photo, folded it, and slipped it into his pocket. 

“Sorry,” Rita offered. Glancing at the girl, Gideon nodded tensely. He was making an effort to stay calm, just like his sister. 

In a low voice he asked, “Rita. When we fell through the portal, you screamed. What happened to Wendy?”

“She’s safe. I…I just wasn’t expecting family to come back so soon. They were on a hunt. Apparently minotaurs in Gravity Falls are easy pickings… anyways. On the topics of hunts, you two perhaps do not want to stick around here too long. Mother mistook you for intruding prey—others will not stop for talismans.” Behind them, the rusalka queen shifted, crunching geode beneath her form. Her warble was warning enough. Several chilling responding calls echoed back against the fractured walls. “She’s keeping them back for now. You two need to go.” 

“I’m all for that idea,” Pacifica grunted. “I do not like the idea of being eaten.” She scrubbed ragged and discolored blond hair from her face as she spoke. 

Rita backed away from her mother and jerkily waved them over. Gideon grabbed the velvet bag as an afterthought, and shoved himself to his feet. His mind numbly thought about the scent and the possibility of tracking it somehow. But he could think about that when he was back safe in Gravity Falls. 

The rusalka mother was shifting in what appeared to be discomfort. Leaning off to one side, its flaking nostrils flared wildly. Gideon wanted to edge around her, but Rita was literally standing right next to the rusalka, her hand planted firmly on her mother’s side. Near petrifying whale song erupted from the mother’s wet lips. The whale song drowned out whatever Rita said next, but she took both their hands and started pulling them down deeper into the cave system.


	16. Romanian Coastline, 4:30 P.M.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Taxidermy is not a sin. Especially not in Oregon.

“My mother is very sick and very old,” Rita explained as they ran. It was hard to keep up when they were both exhausted and tripping over the uneven ground. Somehow, Rita ran with no shoes on. In the near darkness. Huh. A rusalka, Gideon thought. “She is and was the first rusalka on the Romanian coast. Healthy, strong, beautiful, fertile—all of the best traits.” Pacifica coughed loudly into her elbow, slowing them for a moment. “She is none of those now,” the dark skinned girl muttered blackly. “She smelled demon magic on you; she is naturally distrustful because one destroyed a pact with her, attacked her. You know that nuclear reactor meltdown 30 years ago? Demon gave her direct radiation exposure.”

They paused while Rita peeked around a corner. It gave Pacifica a moment to think. “Wait…Chernobyl?” She was clutching her tattered jacket around her awkwardly on one side. Gideon made a concerned face at her while they were waiting for Rita’s response but Pacifica only tensely shrugged it off. 

“That’s the one,” the girl replied. She was speaking way too casually about this. But Gideon could see the tense lines of her hands and the grim set of her mouth, betraying her unease. Rita pulled them around the corner at a much slower pace. “Listen; that portal was the work of some monster. So was that picture. Something in Gravity Falls is targeting you two.” The rusalka girl turned, the grave, green fires of her eyes boring into the siblings. “My advice? Leave.” Shifting her searing gaze to Gideon especially, she warned, “Any mystery or adventure you may find there will be at the expense of your lives.” Back to Pacifica now, pleading in a softer voice. “Do you get that? It is not worth it.” 

Taking Pacifica’s contemplative silence and distant eyes as an affirmative, they kept moving. Low hums and burbles flowed past them in the background. Occasionally Rita would pause to listen but never respond. Finally, the white geode gave way to patches of black dirt and stone, then sparsely spread areas of tan rock. The cave compressed, then opened up into a wide cavern. It was scented like brine and pine, and the walls were chalked up with unfamiliar images and words. She pulled her dreadlocks back and tied them off quickly into a bun, dipping her hands into a natural “bowl” brimming with the white chalk. 

As she kneeled on the ground and worked on tracing a triangular sigil that was scratched into the rock, she spoke quickly over the ever increasing warbling of the rusalkas. “This portal will be one way. The Gravity Falls portal was never supposed to be active. On the subject of that—the Gravity Falls rusalkas are hostile to humans for the most part. They will recognize the talisman if you do ever find yourself in dire straits. However, keep in mind that recognizing is not the same as acknowledging what it stands for. Gideon—that book of yours, the one you keep hiding? As dangerous as it is, I hate to admit, it is useful. Especially for avoiding demons. Pacifica.” 

The girl sighed deeply, as if a weight fell upon her suddenly and crushed the air from her lungs. “Pacifica. You can protect yourself and your brother. But. I want you to be cautious around those two twins and their caretaker. What you’ve told me indicates they are involved in magics.” She spoke quickly, worked quicker. Several times she would mark something down only to roughly scrub it out a moment later. The two siblings stood shoulder to shoulder a few steps behind her. Occasionally, Gideon gave out a violent shiver that shook them both. 

“My mother sees blue gauze and a twisted black veil falling on you two,” Rita snipped out, frustratedly smearing the sweat from her forehead. “She hears lies growing and entangling your limbs. She’s been saying this since I got here. Even with her mind as it is, she can still sense things like this. Do with this information what you may,” she informed them in a low voice. She leaned back into a crouch, and surveyed her work. Back to the twins, Rita exhaled, rolling her shoulders and sniffing. “I cannot return with you two. Had I known her condition earlier…” 

Pacifica let out a breath she hadn’t felt herself holding in. She had had a feeling from the way Rita was talking before but now her fears were finally confirmed. “Well, Gideon, that’s the first tally for the break up book this summer! Let’s see how many more girlfriends I let slip away.” She tried to speak as lightly and jokingly as she could manage through her poorly veiled exasperation. 

“Pacifica…”

The blonde sighed again, pacing a bit around her shivering brother. “No, really, its okay,” she finally admitted. “Rita, it’s fine. I get your reasons.” 

“Whoa, whoa, no—“ Rita suddenly jumped up from her crouch to spin and grab Pacifica’s shoulders to anchor her in place. “No, it is not. It really is not okay. It is unacceptable of me. You can be mad at me.” Pacifica spent a moment exploring Rita’s expression. She leaned forward and slipped an arm around the rusalka girl, kissing her cheek speedily before shakily withdrawing.

“I don’t want to be,” she confessed. The blonde gave Rita’s cheek a soft pat. Her fond smile turned into a grin. “I am a little mad that I couldn’t stay for a proper dinner with your mother.”

Rita chuckled roughly. “I think you would be her dinner. And you most likely will be my sisters’ dinner unless you go back.” The warbling song confirmed her words. It was rising and falling in the distance as more rusalkas returned from their hunts. Rita moved back towards the triangular portal. “You will be fine when you first get back. The pack there knows to give the three of you a free pass. You, Gideon, and the lumberjack. And you, albino—do not ask them questions on or off Scuttlebutt.” Gideon nodded almost violently, then winced and clutched his head, nodding more gently. Rita, seeming satisfied with his response, pulled a roughly hewn pocket knife from her waistband. A quick moment later a minuscule drop of blood fell from her fingertip to the floor. 

The chalky lines of the sigil became wet and glistening, soaking upward like wet sand on the edge of a shore. The light glinting off increased until the lines were radiating pools of white with clouds of rocky silt swirling leisurely around. Rita hesitantly waved her hand through the emanating light. “It is ready,” she said simply. 

“Well…thank you, Rita. Goodbye.” The boy shuffled over to the portal.

“Ah, right. Bye, Gideon.” They shared a jerky handshake that was made much more awkward by the fact that Rita’s hands were covered in the gross chalk stuff that was much stickier than it appeared. Gideon pulled back his hand and grimaced at it, trying and failing to rub it off on his shirt. His hand kept sticking to it and pulling off with a gross squelch. 

Noting this, Pacifica avoided a handshake by kissing Rita on the forehead, and backing up quickly to grab Gideon’s clean hand with her good hand. “Catch you later, Rita.” The blonde grinned and stepped backwards into the portal, yanking Gideon with her. The rusalka didn’t even have a second to look puzzled over the phrase before she blurted her goodbye to their disappearing forms. 

 

 

“Oh Dipper, look who’s back!” The boy’s knife clattered to the table, and he leaned over Mabel’s shoulder precariously, holding his hands over the table. He raised his eyebrows and a small smile lifted his mouth. 

“Those Mystery Shack kids. I was beginning to wonder if they had died somehow. Perhaps by immolation? All bodily traces were gone, weren’t they?”

“Yes, they were,” Mabel smirked. “Just when you thought this was going to be a boring summer, right?” She glanced back at her brother’s face to see his lips pressed together in a terrifyingly pleased grin. When she caught his eye, it widened before he quickly quelled it. She could still discern the excitement in his eyes as he retreated back to the table. 

“Sister, could you spare a moment? I need something to hold back this skin.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy shit.
> 
> how do I romance


End file.
